Her Memory Remains
by christashish
Summary: "He wanted to keep the young girl from dreamscaping. It was dangerous and risky, but it had been an undeniable part of Ariadne's world. He couldn't possibly, with good conscious, keep that part of her from their daughter."


A/N: The story kind of ran away from me. It was supposed to be a fluffy kid fic, I swear. heh...

This is a response to LJ's inception_kinkmeme : Arthur trains Ariadne's daughter in the business.

* * *

"What was mommy like?"

Despite the fact that he had expected his question, Arther was never fully prepared for when his three-year-old asked him. For the past three years since his wife had passed away, Asteria, their daughter, had asked him about her. She had inherited her natural curiosity, along with her silky brunette hair and wide, innocent eyes.

"Your mother was an amazing woman," he answered quietly, smiling wistfully down at the little girl. "She loved you so much."

"I miss her," Asteria sniffled. She had been too young to remember her, but the pictures displayed around their home and the stories she heard from her uncles ensured that her mother was never forgotten. Ariadne had been taken from them too soon, struck by a drunk driver on her way home from the grocery store. She had survived countless jobs filled with unspeakable risks, yet she had been brought down by some bastard who couldn't hold his liquor.

"Me, too," Arthur whispered, his eyes filled with sadness. Wondering if he'd regret this, he asked, "Would you like to see her?"

"Like at the cem-tree?"

He thought of her grave, the cold headstone, so lacking compared to her warm and passionate personality. "No. Like in a dream."

He wanted to keep the young girl from dreamscaping. It was dangerous and risky, but it had been an undeniable part of Ariadne's world. He couldn't possibly, with good conscious, keep that part of her from their daughter.

Pulling the silver case from the top shelf of his closet, he took her to the room that he and Ariadne had once shared. Asteria enthusiastically jumped onto the bed beside him, snuggling up against his side. As gently as he could, hating himself a little, he slipped the thin needle into her arm.

"This is just a dream, okay?" he told her gently. "This mommy isn't real, just memories of her."

"Okay, daddy." Her eyes were filled with trust, so much like her mother's.

"Mommy loved dreams," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "She would want you to know all about them."

He kissed her forehead gently, set the timer and pressed the button. He could feel her small body sag against him, and he too fell asleep.

* * *

When he awoke, they were in the nursery they had decorated years ago. The walls were sky blue. Ariadne had taken great pleasure in painting a skyline, with silhouettes of sky scrapers and towers around the room. The crib sat in the corner, white and elegant, with a mobile of hanging stars circled overhead. In another corner, there was a four-foot tall pile of stuffed animals and toys. Asteria was already there, playing with a fluffy stuffed unicorn.

"Mommy chose these for you when she found out you were going to be born. She was a little over enthusiastic when it came to giving you presents."

"Nothing is too much for my baby."

Arthur froze at the sound of the voice behind him. He was afraid to turn around, to see her in the closest thing to flesh for the first time in three years. While at that moment he was sure that this was a dream, seeing her and being able to hold her again would most definitely break that resolve.

Asteria was the first to react. With a loud squeal, she threw herself into the arms of the awaiting figure. "MOMMY!"

"Oh, baby," Ariadne's voice whispered, the same gentle tone he had heard numerous times in the past. "I missed you so much."

Finally, he turned to face her. She was as she had appeared the day of her death. She was wearing the same jeans, red cardigan, and black silk scarf. Unlike the last time he had seen her, after the morgue had called asking him to identify the latest Jane Doe as his wife, she looked radiant and alive.

"Ari," he choked out. Trembling fingers reached out and brushed her cheek, and for a moment, he forgot that this was all a dream. For a moment, it was just her, and him, and their beautiful daughter. They were a family again, together and whole. As he embraced her, he convinced himself that this was all real. That living without her had been the dream—the nightmare, and he was finally home.

"Daddy, you're squishing me."

His daughter's indignant protests brought him back to reality faster than he could bear. Blinking back tears, he muttered a soft apology. Ariadne—no, his projection of Ariadne—was watching him, her eyes filled with understanding. She was looking at him in a way that his wife had looked at him so often when she was alive, as if she knew of every conflict in his mind. Even before becoming a part of his subconscious, she had known him too well.

"Daddy told you that I'm not really here, didn't he?" she asked the young girl in her arms. When Asteria nodded, her eyes crinkled in a sad smile. "He was always very thorough with details."

"Can we still play, Mommy?" Her daughter's expression was worried, as if now that the truth was revealed, this would all disappear.

"Of course, we can."

Asteria's eyes filled with relief and joy at her mother's words. Suddenly, the sound of the ocean waves filled the room. Turning in alarm, Arthur was shocked to find that the nursery wall had somehow dissolved to reveal a long stretch of beach.

"Let's build sandcastles!" their daughter proclaimed happily.

"Okay, honey," he stammered in surprise. "You go ahead and start."

As they watched the young girl run to play in the sand, Ariadne marveled, "She's a natural."

He turned to her with glistening eyes. "Just like her mother."

"I'm glad you're giving her the chance to create like this."

He had to remind himself again that this was his projection. She was telling him what his subconscious hoped she would say.

"She reminds me of you more every day. She's so curious and bright. She's the top of her class."

"She's six. How top of the class can you be in first grade?"

Arthur chuckled. His eyes were distant, watching Asteria play in the sand. "She colors in between the lines."

"That's all you, dear. I was never one to be limited by something as silly as lines."

Their daughter waved them over enthusiastically, admonishing them for taking so long. After exchanging a small smile, they made their way toward the beginnings of an elaborate sandcastle. Her hand timidly slipped into his, and he reveled in the comfortable familiarity.

"You should be the one to teach her about all of this," he said.

"I only know as much as you do."

"Then it's a good thing that I helped teach you, and you taught me."

So they caught up to Asteria. They built impossibly elaborate sandcastles and began to introduce their child into their world of dreams. His projection of Ariadne, of course, wasn't as brilliant or as natural at building as her real life counterpart had been, but he had learned a lot from her over the years and that translated into his projection of her. Where those teachings lacked, their daughter's natural brilliance seemed to fill in the blanks.

It all went by too quickly, and he began to feel the pull of the real world as the sedatives wore off. Asteria looked away from the brilliant skyscraper she had been forming with an expression of panic.

"I don't wanna go," she whined. She felt it too and understood immediately.

"I know you don't, baby, but we have to." He hated himself for having to drag her away.

"I love you, mommy," she cried, wrapping her arms tightly around the projection's neck.

Ariadne kissed her forehead. "I love you, too, my little A. You're such a beautiful, big girl now. Don't forget to live. As long as you keep living, building, and dreaming, I'll be there with you right here."

"I will, Mommy," Asteria answered. Her mother placed her hand gently over the small girl's heart then kissed her forehead.

"You take good care of Daddy, okay? Make sure he doesn't shoot Uncle Eames."

Asteria planted a big, wet kiss on her mother's cheek, causing both of them to giggle sadly. "I'm gonna miss you."

"Miss you too, Asteria, but I will always love you."

"Love you, too," she sniffled in response.

"Wake up when you're ready, okay? I'm gonna talk to Daddy. Just promise me you'll always be yourself. Always be my beautiful, sweet, and brilliant baby girl."

"I promise, mommy." She hugged her mother a moment longer before she slowly faded away.

Ariadne had tears in her eyes as she turned to him. "I'm not her, Arthur. I'm not the woman you love."

"I know." His hand squeezed around hers. "It felt good to pretend though."

"Promise me something, please."

"Anything." Even if this wasn't really her, he could never turn down a request when those beautiful orbs stared up at him.

"Don't ever come back here. Don't dream up these memories of us anymore. I couldn't bear the thought if you losing yourself. We aren't Mal and Cobb." She gently brought her hand up, gliding her fingertips across his skin as if trying to memorize every line. He closed his eyes as he felt her soft hands on his skin for the first time in years. "You're too amazing to dwell on the past."

He could have rationalized that this wasn't actually her. He wasn't actually promising her, so he wasn't betraying her if he broke this promise, but he had known Ariadne better than he knew anyone else, maybe better than he knew himself. He knew that if Ariadne were truly here she would tell him the same thing. She would hate that he was dragging out a projection of her—a mockery of her true person. This projection was the closest to her that he could get, but it would never be her.

Instead of responding, he whispered, his breathing ragged, "Quick, give me a kiss."

As her plump, perfect lips pressed against his, he felt reality tug at him. He felt her whisper a quiet "I love you," before his eyes opened to reveal Asteria staring up at him. He didn't need to reach to the bedside table for the die. This was his reality.

* * *

**Final A/N**: I haven't written in a long, long time, let alone published anything, so feedback would really be appreciated.

Thanks for reading!


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